Glory in the Water
by bellacatbee
Summary: After the deaths of three teens, Sam and Dean find themselves in a small town, investigating the possibility of a monster living in the lake. They try to take down the creature, but it overpowers them, dragging Dean down into the water. Sam, distraught, believes his brother is dead, but Dean awakens in a cave under the lake, being cared for by one of the monsters, Castiel. (D/C)


**Glory in the Water**

There have always been legends about the creatures that lived underwater. Every ancient text has its own monsters of the deep. As soon as men sailed out to sea, they began to imagine demons under the waves - sirens with beautiful songs who lured men to be dashed to death on the rocks; giant Krakens who rose from the deep to wrap themselves around ships and drown the crew as they pulled the craft down; mermaids who could sometimes be sweet and sometimes deadly, as changing and inconsistent as the sea itself.

People had long feared the sea. They understood that water was untamed. Even little lakes and ponds in the centre of village squares commanded some respect. All too often, a child would be found tangled in the weeds, or a drunken man's body would be discovered floating in the shallows. There could be evil deep in the mud of a lake bed as easily as there might be danger at the bottom of the ocean floor.

Then, people grew worldly. They began to forget the superstitions that had served them well for years. They forgot that water wasn't tranquil and untroubled. They forgot the monsters at the bottom of the lake. They told themselves those were folk stories, the sort of thing silly, ill-educated people believed. Mermaids were really dolphins, the Kraken was just a large squid and sirens were myths. They made themselves believe that they were safe, and in doing so, left themselves open to all the creatures of the deep.

"Look at this," Sam said. He turned his laptop to face his brother, pointing at the picture on the screen and the headline above it. The picture showed a body, covered from the cameras, being wheeled away from the lake bed. The headline read '_Remains of Drowning Victims recovered._'

Dean shrugged. "Yeah? I see it, Sam. What's the point? People drown all the time."

Sam turned the laptop back to himself. "The body parts, believed to belong to three missing teenagers, were recovered yesterday along the lake bank of their home town, Bear Creek, West Virginia," Sam read, quoting from the article. "The two boys and a girl, Alex Fletcher, David Slone and Mellissa Earl, were last seen on the 17th. They told friends they were going for a late-night swim. A car belonging to one of the victims was found parked beside the lake."

"Yes, Sam. It's a tragedy, drunk teens drowning."

"Although extensive searches have been made to recover the bodies, only parts have been found. The sheriff's office declined to comment on the fact that the bodies appeared to have been dismembered, or that teeth marks have been found on the recovered body parts. There has been some speculation that the bodies were discovered by animals which lead to their mutilation. The sheriff's office is investigating the possibility. The sheriff has stressed again the dangers of swimming in lakes and ponds and has advised people that if they wish to swim, the state does provide public pools."

Sam finished reading, looking up at Dean triumphantly.

"Don't you think that's a case? Mysterious deaths of teens? Their bodies mutilated? Teeth marks? That sounds like something supernatural, Dean."

"I guess we could check it out," Dean said. He frowned, thinking. "How many teens did they say?"

"Three - two boys and a girl."

"Right," Dean nodded thoughtfully. "That doesn't sound right somehow. Why would a girl go off on her own with two guys? One guy, sure, but two?"

"Dean..." Sam said warningly.

"No, Sam, I don't mean," Dean paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "Look, they were going skinny dipping, right?"

Sam always assumed Dean was thinking the worst, that he was being some kind of pervert, but this time he wasn't. He just figured he had a better handle on adventurous teens and what they were like than Sam did.

"The article doesn't say that, but yes, it seems that way."

"Okay, assuming that there wasn't some kinky stuff going on, then I think there's another body - or at least there should be another body. I think there was another girl down there. Two guys, two girls, two couples. Does the article mention any other missing teens?"

Sam read through the article again quickly, then clicked back to the previous article, the first one posted when the teens were still listed as missing. He shook his head.

"No, no one else is mentioned."

"Then we've got a witness," Dean said. "You know, if I'm right."

"One way to find out. It's only a day's drive away."

"FBI or animal control?" Dean asked. They had the clothes and IDs that could provide them with the right background in either case.

"FBI. I don't want you causing panic by telling people there's a crocodile in the lake," Sam said, briskly, shutting down his laptop.

"Might be a good idea, Sam. If something is in that water killing people, then it's not going to stop just because the law's involved. Monsters don't give a damn about the law," Dean said.

They might as well get going as soon as they could. Then they could work out if this was really a lead or just a freak, tragic accident.

People were very helpful when they thought they were talking to the FBI. It had only taken two houses, two sets of grieving parents before Dean hit upon the name of their possible witness - Abigail Monroe. She had been the on-again, off-again girlfriend of one of the young men who had drowned. Dean would have put money on her being the fourth person down by the lake that night.

He knocked on the door of the Monroe house, glancing up and down the street. It was a nice neighbourhood. The sort of neighbourhood where people noticed if something was out of place, where they'd be too scandalised by the thought of a girl going out skinny dipping with a boy to listen to what she'd actually seen.

The door opened, a young girl standing there. She was sixteen, maybe, with long blonde hair pushed back from her forehead with a hair band and small green eyes. She was pretty but still very young-looking. Too young, in Dean's mind, to have been sneaking out with an older boyfriend. Now Dean was starting to feel old. He never used to look at kids that way. He'd just remembered the fun he'd had when he was their age.

"You Abigail Monroe?" he asked.

The girl nodded slowly.

"Can I come in?" he asked, holding up his ID. "I'm Agent Moon, from the FBI. I've got some questions to ask you about Alex Fletcher's death."

Abigail gasped and she opened the door wider.

"How did you know?" she asked. "I haven't told anyone I was there."

"I'm in the FBI. It's my job to know these things," Dean said. "Are you parents in?"

"No, they're at the church. They're organising food for the search party, the ones who are searching down at the lake."

Abigail moved away from the door, wandering towards the living room in a daze and Dean followed her, shutting the door behind him. The girl sat down on the sofa, her expression still dazzled.

"I can't believe Alex is really dead," she said. "I saw it happen, but I can't believe it."

Dean sat down in the chair across from her. He took out his notebook and pen, flipping the notebook open.

"What did you see?" he asked.

Abigail looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "You won't believe me."

"I will. My job is to look into the facts. Whatever happened down there, I'll get to the truth of it," Dean said.

Abigail wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering. "We were supposed to go swimming, all of us, but it was dark when we got there. I wanted to go home; Alex and I had a fight about it. He was there with his friends and he didn't want me to show him up. He said I was being a child. I stayed in the car. I thought he was going to…he and Melissa were always close. They took off their clothes, and I knew he was doing it to make me jealous, but I wouldn't get out of the car."

She took a deep breath, her whole body shaking with the memory of it. Dean mentally checked Alex Fletcher off in his mind as an asshole.

"They swum out pretty deep and they were laughing and splashing. Then something happened. Alex bobbed under the water and when he came back up, he started shouting at David. He said David had pulled him under the water. I could hear him yelling. Then Melissa disappeared. I kept waiting for her to surface but she didn't. And then David. It dragged David under. Alex tried to get out, he tried to run, but it got him. It dragged him back into the water. He was screaming, he was screaming and I was too scared to do anything. I got out of the car and I ran all the way back home."

The tears that had been threatening to fall for since Abigail started talking rolled down her cheeks. The girl reached into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled tissue and she blew her nose. Dean gave her a few moments to collect herself. He didn't like seeing people cry, especially not teenage girls who saw their boyfriends butchered in front of their eyes.

"You said 'it' - that 'it' dragged Alex back into the water. What do you mean by 'it'?" he asked.

Abigail looked up at him, fighting back another wave of tears.

"I couldn't see, not very well. But it had tentacles, long black ones, and it dragged them under with them. All I ever saw were the tentacles." Abigail's voice wavered and she stopped, breaking down into sobs again. Dean dug in his pocket quickly, pulling out a spare tissue. He'd always found it handy to have something like that around when he was questioning grief-stricken friends and family. It established a level of trust.

They remembered Dean; they remembered that he was nice. If they needed to call someone, if they remembered something else or if there was a new development, then it was Dean whose number they reached for first.

Abigail took the tissue from him, wiping her eyes.

"Do you believe me?" she asked.

"Yes," Dean said. "I believe you."

He reached in to his pocket again, this time drawing out a card. He passed it across to the girl. "You call me, if you think of anything else." He got up, giving her a curt nod. "I'll show myself out."

He walked outside, jogged down the steps and kept going. He was certain that the curtains at the window would be twitching, Abigail watching him leave. He walked to the car, taking his phone out of his pocket and he had Sam's number punched in by the time he'd settled down on the front seat. Sam picked up after a few seconds.

"We've got a case," Dean said.

"I know," Sam said. "I've seen the bodies. Well, the bits that are left of them."

"I found our eyewitness. She's scared out of her mind, just a kid. She saw her boyfriend and his friends killed," Dean sighed. There wouldn't be anyone she could talk to, apart from people like Sam and Dean, people who already knew that there were monsters under the bed. She'd go through her whole life, pretending that she didn't see what she saw, trying to convince herself that it was something else she'd seen that night.

"What did she see? Some kind of shape-shifter?"

"I don't think it's a shape-shifter. I think we need to hit the books on this one, Sam. She said the thing that killed her boyfriend had tentacles."

"Tentacles?"

"I know, Sam, the whole thing's freaky, but she's convinced about what she saw and I believe her."

"Okay, well, I'll meet you back at the motel. I'll bring the autopsy reports. You need to see the bite marks. They look almost human."

"Sure," Dean hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket. He stared into the distance, not really seeing the street in front of him, his mind running back over everything he'd learned in the last few minutes. They certainly had a case here. It just didn't sound like anything Dean had ever dealt with before. What had teeth like a man's and tentacles? It sounded like something from a horror movie.

Dean shuddered.

Whatever it was, he and Sam would hunt it down and they'd kill it. Then Dean would swing by Abigail Monroe's house and tell her that he'd killed the thing that ate her boyfriend. It was a small comfort but it was all he could do.

At least Abigail would have some sort of closure that way.

"So all these things are real? Mermaids and shit?" Dean asked. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, not in his line of work, but there were some things he just thought were myths. Angles, unicorns and before now, mermaids.

"Most of them are real, yes," Sam said, looking up from the computer screen.

"But I thought mermaids were just sexy fish-women," Dean said, frowning. "You know, like Daryl Hannah in Splash."

"Mermaids have a bad history, Dean. They were soulless monsters who drowned men at sea. Sometimes they drowned them just for fun. Sometimes they ate them."

"And you think we're chasing a mermaid?" Dean asked, shaking his head.

"I think it's something like a mermaid, but different. Mermaids don't tend to have tentacles. They have fins."

"Okay, Sam, so what do you think we're chasing?"

"Maybe something like this," Sam said, pointing at the computer screen. Dean leant forward, peering at the picture flickering there. It was a scan of an old wood carving. It showed a monster, rearing up on a body of black, inky tentacles, but from the torso up the carving was undeniably human. Whoever had carved the picture had taken extra care with the teeth which looked as sharp as needles.

"Yeah, that could have been what our witness saw," Dean said. "She didn't mention them looking human at all though."

"They?" Sam glanced at his brother. "You think there was more than one."

Dean shrugged. "I just have a hunch. Three victims? It seems kind of excessive for one monster alone. It's feeding on them, right? I don't know. Three teenagers just sounds like the family feast bucket."

Sam pulled a face, turning away from him again. He continued reading the page, his shoulders sagging as he read on.

"You might be right. Apparently they live in family groups," he said.

"Yeah, so they'll probably be trying to feed again soon," Dean said with a sigh.

"And they've got the whole of the sheriff's department to choose from," Sam said.

"Are you sure this is our monster, Sam? Like I said, the witness only mentioned tentacles."

"The article says they can breathe under water. They have gills in their necks. Apparently, their tentacles act like another appendage, like having hundreds and hundreds of hands. They could easily have dragged those teens underwater without ever breaking the surface. I think this is the best bet, Dean. It explains both the witness's statement and the fact that the bite marks on the bones the sheriff's department recovered appear to be human."

Dean shuddered. Something about the way Sam talked, about the idea of hundreds of wet, tentacle-shaped hands, made him feel kind of sick. It also made him seriously wish he hadn't watched a couple of those videos he'd seen on that Japanese website. It had been hot, at the time, before he knew tentacle monsters were a real thing. In retrospect, they were just sort of creepy now.

"So do these things have a name?" he asked.

"There's something in German, it translates to roughly 'octopus-person'"

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, I'll just call it a tentacle monster. Less of a mouthful."

He sat down on his motel bed, covering his mouth as he yawned. It had been a long day, and the lure of a bed with broken springs and lumpy pillows was calling him.

"I'm gonna hit the hay, Sam. We can pick up this monster's trail tomorrow. Hopefully by then the local boys will be a bit further down the lake and we can start at the spot where the teens actually went missing. Do you know how to kill this thing yet?"

"I've got a good idea," Sam said. "Harpoon it."

"Right, so we go out tomorrow and try not to look conspicuous as fuck with our big, old harpoon."

"I'm going to stay up for a bit, keep researching," Sam said.

Dean nodded. He pulled back the covers and crawled into the bed. It was uncomfortable, lumpy and the sheets were too thin, but it was still a bed and Dean was asleep within a few minutes, lulled by the tap-tap of Sam's fingers on his keyboard. His sleep was blissfully dream-free.

Dean was woken by Sam shaking him. He reached out, trying to push his brother away, huffing in protest about needing just five more minutes. It wasn't often that he got a full night's sleep, even less so that he slept without the interruption of a nightmare and he didn't want to get up.

"Dean, you have to get up," Sam said. "One of the searchers disappeared in the night. I think one of the monsters got him."

Dean sat up, completely awake.

"Where's the harpoon?"

As soon as they arrived at the scene, Dean knew there wasn't anything they could do. He and Sam could hardly stroll up and down the lake bank, carrying a harpoon in one hand, checking the water for unexplained ripples. They couldn't even take the sheriff aside and try to convince him about the theory. They didn't have any proof, only a lot of guess work and conjecture. It wasn't like hunting a ghost or a vampire, something they were used to, neither he nor Sam had any real idea what these creatures were like. They couldn't talk with any authority. They were groping around in the dark and Dean wasn't any too keen to invite someone else to join them down there.

The only good thing, as far as Dean could see, was that after a fourth disappearance people were stating to keep away from the water. There was already a rumour spreading that there was an alligator in the water, even though the bite marks were the wrong shape for it. Dean didn't care what sort of urban legend sprang up, as long as it kept people away from the water.

He checked the lake bank, the place where the man had gone missing, while Sam talked to the sheriff. Dean already knew the story. The man was one of a group who'd volunteered to help the sheriff's office hunt for clues or, more accurately, body parts. It had been getting late in the day, the sun had been setting and almost everyone had packed up to go home. He'd been one of the last ones still out searching and eventually, when he didn't show up to sign himself off for the night, everyone had assumed he'd just headed straight home and skipped the paperwork. It was only when he didn't show up in the morning that anyone started to worry. When his car was found in exactly the same spot he'd parked it in the day before, and a search of his home produced no-one and no clue to his whereabouts, that was the time when the sheriff began to suspect the worst.

Today the searchers were looking for their missing friend as well as any body parts they might uncover.

Awful as it was to think, the man's disappearance could only be good news for Sam and Dean. Fewer people had shown up to search, scared off by the thought that they could be next. The sheriff had tightened up the rules. People had to sign in and out. They had to search with a buddy. Once the light started going, that was it, everyone was called in for the day.

What it meant, in short, was that he and Sam had more luck of coming down there in the night and not being disturbed.

Dean stared out, into the water. It looked peaceful. It looked calm. It didn't look deep enough to hide bodies, let alone creatures with tentacles and sharp pointed teeth. He would have said there was nothing to worry about, if he hadn't known better. How many of these sleepy little towns had he and Sam been to? How many urban legends had they discovered to be true? Dean didn't trust it when things looked nice on the surface any more. He'd learned the lesson about hidden depths all too well.

He sighed, turning away from the water's edge and walking back towards the car. Were the monsters nocturnal? That seemed to make sense. So far all of their kills had taken place at night or when the light was dying. Either they were nocturnal or they were shy about being seen. They wouldn't be the first monsters who chose to hide themselves under the cloak of night. It was safer.

The kills though, those were rapid. Dean wondered if they'd taken advantage of the sudden availability of fresh meat. Sam hadn't mentioned anything about feeding patterns. Some monsters had rules. They fed once every ten years and only under a full moon and they were fucking hard to kill as a result. Were these creatures like that? Did they have rules and rituals they had to obey? Or were they predators who devoured whatever came in to their lake, and had a buffet of human flesh on offer to them been too tempting to resist?

Dean leant against the hood of his car, pausing for a moment to rub at a spot of mud on the otherwise spotless shine of his baby. He didn't like having so many questions and so few answers. It made him feel uneasy, unprepared.

A few seconds later Sam joined him, panting slightly.

"What did the sheriff say?" Dean asked.

"Town has a higher than average number of deaths by drowning. A couple of people every year, mostly in the summer. The sheriff says he's always tried to warn people off swimming here, but when it gets hot, some people don't listen."

"And the bodies?"

"They drag the lakebed, usually never find anything. A couple years later they might get some bones."

"Right, so our tentacle monsters have probably been here the whole time, snacking on people when they got a chance. They grabbed three at once, got greedy, and left some evidence behind."

Sam shivered. "I hate thinking about them, down there, waiting."

"Yeah, I know. It's as bad as the start of Jaws."

"So, are we coming back here tonight?"

"We just have to wait for the sheriff and everyone to pack up, and then we can," Dean said. It wouldn't have made any difference if they'd come back the night before, he reasoned to himself. They couldn't have done anything to save the poor bastard who'd gone missing. He'd been grabbed when the sun was setting, too early for Dean and Sam to have been about. They were still in the motel, still nose-deep in research, trying to figure out just what was in the lake.

By the time they even had a partial I.D. on the monster, the man would already have been dead.

But even though he knew that was true, believed it with his whole heart, Dean still felt guilty. He'd tried to fob Sam off, told him there wasn't a case here. If Sam hadn't insisted, would they even have come? If Dean hadn't found that witness, would he even believe in what they were searching for? There were too many 'If's for Dean's liking.

The lake looked different in the night time. During the day it looked painfully normal, apart from the search teams and the sheriff standing guard. It didn't look dangerous. Now in the night it seemed eerie. The moon was high in the trees, casting silvery shadows over the water. Every ripple looked like something might be dancing beneath it. The water was as black as ink, save for the silver sparkles of the moonlight playing over its surface. There was no way to see what was in the water. The wind rustled though the leaves and the clumps of rushes at the lake bank. All of it felt unnatural. Dean wondered if he only felt that way because he knew there was a monster hiding somewhere.

He tried to see it from the view of those teenagers who'd driven out to the lake, planning on a night of fun under the moonlight. Had it seemed romantic then?

Dean jabbed the head of his harpoon into the water.

"Did you see something?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn't even pretend that he'd thought there was something under the water there. He'd just wanted to do something.

"No," he said. "Let's keep going."

He strode off down the bank, forcing Sam to run to keep up with him. Dean moved the clumps of reeds, searching through the shallows, poking the harpoon in to the water, coming up against the resistance of the lake bottom but nothing else. It was only then that he caught sight of the flash of white between the reeds a little further down.

There was no doubt it was a body.

Dean made his way cautiously towards it, motioning for Sam to follow him.

As he came closer, he realized it was the head, arms and torso of a young man. He was lying in the shallows of the water, face down, his dark hair floating fanned out around him. His skin was so white it was almost translucent, probably from being in the water for so long. Dean swallowed. He'd come out hoping to find something, but another dead body hadn't been what he'd been looking for.

He knelt down in the water, trying not to think about the lower half of the body and where that could be. He reached out, touching the body on the shoulder. It was cold to the touch, clammy and wet. Even though he knew it was pointless, he checked for a pulse. There wasn't one.

Poor bastard, Dean thought quietly. The guy had only come out to help. He looked so young too. Far too young to have drowned out here in the lake because there were dangers in the world he'd never known to keep himself safe from.

"Dean?" Sam's confused, frightened voice broke through his thoughts.

"What is it, Sammy?" he called back.

"The man who disappeared..."

"What about him, Sam?" Dean asked, beginning to feel irritable.

"He was in his forties, Dean and he was black."

Dean turned to look back at the body. Everything happened in a second. The head turned and Dean had just long enough to register bright blue eyes and a mouthful of sharp, wicked looking teeth before he was grabbed from behind. The thing had been so fucking clever, Dean was almost impressed. It had laid a trap for them.

He struggled but Sam had been right when he'd described the tentacles as another hand. There were so many of them, as inky black as the water the creature had hidden them in. He tried to slap them away, tried to stab them with the harpoon but he was too close, his weapon was too heavy and bulky. Another tentacle came up, coiling round the harpoon and yanked it from his hand, tossing it away, towards the trees.

Dean caught sight of Sam on the bank, the flash of his own weapon as he raised it high. He bought it down on the nearest tentacle and the creature screamed - a horrible, high, uncontrolled scream. Sam pulled his harpoon away and the tentacle came with it, pulling free from the monster's body. Sam recoiled in horror and the monster reared up at him, hissing. It wasn't bleeding, the loss of one of its tentacles didn't seem to have hurt it, just pissed it off more.

Dean struggled more violently, pushing and shoving at the tentacles but they curled round him, pinning his arms to his sides, making his legs all but useless.

"Sam!" he shouted.

The monster turned then, flinging itself back into the water, dragging Dean down with it. He fought as hard as he could, wiggling in its grip but he couldn't breathe, his lungs felt like they were burning. He was pulled down deeper into the water, away from Sam and land, away from the air. Finally, thankfully, he passed out.

Sam waded out desperately into the water after them, shouting Dean's name. He kept going till the water was up to his knees, his stomach and then his chest but there was no sign of them. There was nothing. The water around him was freezing cold. Every ripple looked like another black tentacle. Sam turned, his heart hammering in his chest.

He forced himself to move, forced himself to get back on to dry land before he collapsed in shock.

Dean was gone.

One of those monsters had taken his brother and Sam hadn't been able to stop them. He hadn't been able to do anything. He knew some types of octopi had limbs they could detach, it protected them from predators but nothing he'd read had told him he was facing up against something that could do that. He hadn't researched enough, he'd been unprepared. He hadn't known what he was doing and now Dean was dead because of him.

Sam rolled on to his side, retching. He couldn't believe that Dean was just gone. This wasn't supposed to happen. Dean wasn't supposed to die on what should have been just another hunt. Sam was supposed to have his back. If something went wrong Sam was supposed to save him.

Sam didn't know when he'd started crying, he only knew that now he couldn't stop, his whole body shaking with big, heaving sobs. He lay in the mud and the dirt, sobbing his heart out.

Dean wasn't supposed to die.

Dean awoke with a pounding head, his throat raw and burning. For a long moment he couldn't remember anything. His eyes hurt too much to open them and Dean wondered just how much he'd had to drink the night before. He hoped he'd had a good time because he was certainly paying for it now. Then it all came rushing back to him - the lake, the monster, the trap that had been laid for him. He forced his eyes open, just enough to get a glimpse of green. He breathed in great lungful's of air, realized he wasn't dead or a ghost. Then the effort became too great and he passed out again.

The second time Dean awoke, it was because something cold and wet was sliding up under his shirt. Dean kept his eyes closed, tried to regulate his breathing, pretending he was still asleep. He let the tentacle, because he knew that was what it was, continue its exploratory path up, under his shirt. It was an odd sensation but it didn't hurt and there were no teeth involved. The searching tentacle even seemed hesitant, stopping once or twice, nearly drawing back before its owner found the courage to carry on. There were little suckers on the underside of the tentacle, probably how the creature felt things Dean supposed, and those stuck to his skin but not hard. They pulled away easily, just a little popping sound the only indication that they had been there. That wasn't what Dean remembered from the night before. When those tentacles had wrapped around him then, those suckers had gripped on tight and stopped him from moving. It had been like being held in a vice.

Everything now was distinctly different. There was nothing aggressive in the way the creature touched him. Dean almost wanted to open his eyes, to see the curiosity he was sure would be on its face. Hadn't the monster seen enough of human anatomy this week? It had killed four people; Dean would have thought it would have worked out what made them tick by now.

He had a moment of disquiet when one of the suckers landed right over one of his nipples, but he managed to stop himself from making a noise. It wasn't that it felt good; Dean had already firmly decided it didn't feel good, it was just that he was cold and his nipples were sensitive when it was cold. It really didn't help that now there was suction involved and Dean could feel his nipple hardening. He was grateful when the tentacle moved on and he didn't have that distracting stimulation to worry about any longer.

Although it was all kinds of distracting. The tentacle moved lower again, brushing over his abdomen and Dean bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. The tentacle stopped still abruptly and Dean tried his best to feigned sleep again, adding a few faked snores.

Seconds stretched into minutes and Dean was certain the creature knew he was awake now, but then, slowly the tentacle moved again. This time it started moving lower, slipping under the waistband of his pants. This was too much for Dean. It was getting too close to his cock for comfort and Dean wasn't certain that the exploration would stop there. He'd seen enough hentai to know where tentacles usually ended up and there was no way Dean was going to lie still and let the monster do that to him.

He snapped his eyes open, reaching out and grabbing the tentacle, pulling it from his pants with surprising ease.

"No," he said, as firmly as he could manage. "No, you don't get to touch there."

He forced his eyes to focus and turned his head, looking properly at the creature beside him. Dean hadn't got a good look at him in the moonlight of the night before, most of what he remembered was teeth and tentacles, but now he was able to look more closely. From the waist down the creature was a mass of writhing black tentacles but from the waist up he was all pale skin, tinged blue, bright blue eyes and quivering wet lips. It almost looked sacred, like it was ashamed that Dean had caught him trying to undress him.

Him. The tentacle monster certainly looked male, at least from what Dean could see of him.

"What are you?" he asked.

"Castiel," the monster said, pointing to himself. "What are you?" he gestured to Dean and Dean was suddenly reminded of old black and white Tarzan movies.

"Uh, I'm Dean," he said, pushing himself up. He took a moment to really look around himself. They were in a cave. Dean wondered how far down they were. The cave itself seemed to be an air pocket. There was grass underneath him and moss on the walls. Long stalagmites hung from the caves roof. As Dean stared at them he realized they were radiating a low, white light. It had to be the reason they weren't bathed in darkness. Dean could just see the ripples of the water where the mouth of the cave ended. That had to be the way they'd come in.

One thing Dean was certain of, Sam would never find this cave. He'd never even know where to start looking.

Dean turned back to the monster, to Castiel, he corrected himself quickly. The tentacle creature looked at him earnestly. It was keeping its distance, Dean realized, which made very little sense since it had already proved it was more powerful than him.

"Are you going to eat me?" he asked bluntly.

Castiel wrinkled his nose.

"No," he said. He shifted, his hands moving uncomfortably at his sides, his body swaying back and forth as his tentacles moved too. "Do you like it here?"

Dean glanced around again. "What? Yeah, sure. It's swell."

Castiel brightened visibly, smiling at him. "I saw you before, at the water's edge. I hoped you would like it down here."

"You were spying on me, were you?" Dean asked, chuckling softly. Unexpectedly, Castiel's cheeks coloured.

"You didn't see me but I wasn't spying," he said softy. "I was only looking."

"Uh, right," Dean agreed hastily. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to Castiel, no idea what the creature wanted. It wasn't that Dean wasn't grateful to still be alive, but he didn't know what else he'd be useful for apart from as an entrée.

Castiel was still looking at him, staring would have been a better word for it, and Dean was beginning to feel nervous.

"Hey, Castiel," he said, trying out the sound of the creature's name on his tongue. It was strange, clunky. "How about taking me back up topside?"

"Oh no," Castiel said, shaking his head. "I keep you.

"No, you can't keep me," Dean said. "I've got a brother, and I can't live in a cave, and what do mean you 'keep me'?"

Castiel looked flustered. He opened his mouth once, twice and then shook his head, his eyes darting away from Dean. "Are you hungry? I can get you food. You're hungry."

"I'm not hungry," Dean said but Castiel was already moving, his body streamlining as he gracefully slid into the pool of water and disappeared from sight. Dean stared after him, completely at a loss as to what to do.

He couldn't follow Castiel. This cave could be just one of a labyrinth of underwater caves and Dean could get lost in them completely. He could drown before there was even the chance of coming up for air.

He concentrated instead on trying to work out why Castiel was keeping him captive. He'd said he didn't want to eat Dean but his grasp of English was patchy. Maybe he'd meant he didn't mean to eat Dean now, maybe he wanted to fatten him up first.

Or, Dean wondered, did Castiel have something else completely in mind? He couldn't forget the probing, exploratory touch of Castiel's tentacles over his body or the shy, slightly hopeful expression on Castiel's face when the creature had confessed to watching him.

He hoped, desperately, that he was wrong about Castiel's interest in him.

Dean had been watching the water, waiting for Castiel's return. He had no idea how long he sat there. His watch was waterlogged. Dean had taken it off, opened it up and tried to dry it off as much as he could but it still wasn't working properly. Dean couldn't even have been sure, if he had got his watch working, that it would give him any real idea of the time. He was pretty certain it had stopped as soon as he hit the water. He could have been out for hours or out for days. The watch couldn't tell him. He had to wait for Castiel to get back before he had even half a chance of finding out the answer.

The water rippled and then Castiel's head broke the surface. He reached out, dragging himself up on to the cave floor beside Dean. In his tentacles he carried a wet and very large leaf, folded over itself. He placed this in front of Dean, unwrapping it carefully.

"Food," he said, looking at Dean with undisguised pride. "I caught it myself."

Dean looked down at the mess of still flopping, still gasping fish and, most horribly, a human hand nestled among them. He fought down the urge to be sick. He'd seen worse things but he'd never had them presented to him as something to eat.

He drew a shuddering breath in and looked away from the meal Castiel had brought him.

"I can't eat that," he said.

Castiel titled his head to one side. "I caught them fresh - the fish."

"I can't eat them raw and I can't eat...I'm not going to eat anything human. I'm not a cannibal."

Castiel looked a little hurt, gathering his gift of food close to himself. He picked the offending hand from the pile and tossed it back into the water.

"I'll eat it later," he said.

Dean fought back another wave of nausea. He couldn't look at the dying fish, he couldn't look at Castiel. This creature ate human flesh. It was a monster and it was holding Dean captive somewhere no one would ever find him. Dean couldn't remember a time when his future had looked bleaker than this. He was provisions for Castiel, he'd decided that already. He was being kept here, fattened up, for when the monster was hungry again. Four bodies in four days must have been too much for him to eat all at once but he'd obviously developed a taste for people.

"Are there others like you?" he asked bitterly.

"I have brothers and sisters," Castiel said. A shy smile appeared on his lips. "I haven't told them about you."

"Keeping me for yourself?" Dean asked. He knew that gallows humour would go right over the monster's head but that didn't stop him from indulging in it. If Dean was going to die then he was going to do it with a smile on his face. He also hoped he could do it after taking out a fair few of the bastard tentacle creatures too.

Castiel looked at him, his bright blue eyes widening and he nodded, unaware of Dean's thoughts which were at that moment preoccupied with wondering what he could make a weapon out of. There were a couple of sharp looking rocks around. Those might do.

Castiel had started talking again and Dean snapped his attention back long enough to hear "I don't want them to hurt you."

"Uh, repeat that?" he said, feeling a little confused. Unless Castiel was picky about who he shared his food with, Dean didn't think he'd have any reason to worry about his family hurting Dean.

Castiel ducked his head, his cheeks filling with colour. "I said that they wouldn't understand us. They wouldn't understand why I brought you here and I don't want them to hurt you."

Even with all the information, Dean didn't feel any clearer than he had before.

"What wouldn't they understand about us, Cas?" he asked, the nickname rolling off his tongue, a lot simpler than the creatures full name.

"That you're my mate," Castiel answered.

Dean stared at him, waiting for Castiel to laugh, to prove he had a sense of humour, or to do something that proved he'd said those words just for effect, but Castiel's face was perfectly, horribly honest. He obviously meant what he'd said.

"What do you mean I'm your mate?" he hissed, the same fear he'd felt when those tentacles had been exploring him rising in him again.

"I mean I'm your mate and you are mine. I saw you on the lake side and I knew. I'm an adult, I can bear children and I can hunt. I'll be a good mate to you, Dean."

Dean swallowed, his throat constricting painfully and he struggled to breathe.

"But you eat people," he said finally, when he could find the words.

"You're different," Castiel said stubbornly. His stubbornness faded and he looked awkward. "And I don't...I've never...I only eat what my brothers kill."

Dean swallowed. He tried to remind himself that that didn't make a difference; just because Castiel hadn't drowned anyone himself didn't mean he wasn't still dangerous. It didn't mean he wasn't still going to hurt Dean. Dean risked a glance at the writhing mess of tentacles that were half of Castiel's body. He already knew he didn't want those tentacles anywhere near him. He'd seen the porn, he knew what happened and Dean didn't want any part in that.

Castiel must have seen the look of disgust on his face because he moved away suddenly, sliding back in to the water, his lower half hidden from Dean's view.

"You don't like the way I look?" he asked nervously.

"I don't like anything about you," Dean hissed. "You're a monster."

Castiel's eyes widened, the horror clear and evident on his face. Then he ducked down, back into the water, completely hidden from Dean's view. Dean peered into the water after him but there was no trace of Castiel there. Dean shuffled back, away from the water's edge and forced himself not to feel guilty for hurting the feelings of a monster.

He focused instead on working out how to light a fire. The fish would be dead soon if they weren't dead already and Dean's stomach was beginning to growl, reminding him that he needed to keep going. Dean would find a way to stay alive and he would find a way out.

That was the most important thing.

That was the thing to keep in mind, not the hurt in Castiel's blue eyes.

Dean managed to get a fire going eventually. He'd collected moss and grass together, making sure that it was dry because the wet stuff would never light. He'd spent a lot of time fruitlessly bashing two rocks together until finally there was a spark and his bundle of kindling caught alight. Then he'd managed to char the first of the fish he tried to cook to an unpalatable black burnt mess. He'd fixed that problem by placing a larger rock in the centre of the fire, letting it heat up and then cooking the fish on top of it. No burns but he managed to cook it through thoroughly.

The only problem came when he thought about eating it. The fish still had eyes. It still had a head and a tail. It still looked like a fish and Dean had never been keen on eating something that could look at him. He liked beef burgers and steaks and meat that had been ground up and reprocessed to look like something else. He'd never been one for hunting or fishing. Shooting was different because you could shoot at a target or at some tin cans. Dean could still remember Bobby taking him and Sam out when they were only boys, prepared to teach them how to track a deer.

Bobby had talked about how good the meat would taste, how much better it would be because they'd brought it in themselves rather than buying that over processed, pre-packaged shit they sold at the store. They'd spent the better part of a day hunting and when finally they found the deer, Dean had had a clean shot of it. It should have been easy. Dean should have just squeezed the trigger and then they'd have venison burgers for dinner but he hadn't been able to do it.

His shot had gone wide, completely missed its mark and the deer had bounded off, away deeper into the woods where they couldn't follow. Bobby had driven them home, picking up some of that pre-packaged rubbish on the way because they didn't have anything else in the house. Dean had never hesitated to shoot anything else before but he'd seen that deer and all he could think of was Bambi. He didn't want to be the hunter that stopped Bambi's mum from coming home.

Not that Dean had ever told Bobby or Sam that. He knew it was a stupid reason to hesitate, he knew they'd make fun of him if they knew the truth because Dean had never stopped to worry about if a werewolf had kids or not before he'd fired a bullet into its skull but monsters were different. Dean was happy not knowing where his food came from. He wanted it just ground up, heavily salted, flame-grilled and put in front of him without any questions about how it had been killed or what its life had been like before it ended up on Dean's plate.

The fish wasn't going to get battered or covered in bread crumbs any time soon though. Dean dug into it, peeling the skin away from the flesh and picking at it, eating as much as he could before he started feeling sick. Fish had never been high up his list of favourite foods but Dean tried to make himself like the taste. It was all he was going to get for a while. It wasn't as if beef burgers were a naturally occurring thing and there weren't shoals of them swimming around, waiting for someone with a net to come along and scoop them up.

He covered up the remains of his meal with some more grass and moss. He didn't throw it away. He might be hungry again later and there was still a lot of it left. Dean knew he'd have to get used to cooking and eating fish so he tried his best not to think about the fish's eyes or the fact that it had still been flipping its tail when Castiel delivered it to him.

He thought instead about trying to get a message to Sam. Somehow he doubted Castiel would be willing to run a message up to Sam to tell him that Dean was okay. He also didn't trust that Sam wouldn't harpoon Castiel on sight before he managed to get Dean's message across. If that happened then Dean had no chance of rescue. At least with Castiel visiting him there was food, someone to talk to and the chance that he might, eventually, be able to convince the tentacle monster that this idea about Dean being his mate was just too ridiculous to ever be true.

There was nothing to write on and Dean didn't have anything that would float so no messages in bottles or anything like that were possible. He had a lot of rocks but those would just sink like, well, rocks if he tried to get a message out using them. He had thought about dropping his watch into the water. It was light enough that it would float but Sam might just interpret that as proof of Dean's death. His watch washing up would be like the body parts that had washed up on the lake bank, the sundries and leftovers.

Dean had already checked his mobile. Miraculously it turned on once he'd dried it out, but there was no signal. Dean hadn't really expected there to be, not as far down as he'd concluded he was. No text messages and no phone calls then.

His only real plan of escape was to swim for it, the obstacles and difficulties of which he'd already considered at great length.

There was really only one option Dean could see. He'd have to win Castiel round, have to convince him that Dean and he were incompatible and that Dean belonged in the human world and Castiel belonged in whatever nightmare he'd crawled out of.

Dean hoped that Castiel would take his rejection the right way and wouldn't try to eat him.

Dean had already worked on fashioning himself a crude shiv from a sharp stone that he'd made sharper still. If any of the tentacle monsters got to close then Dean had something to defend himself with.

Dean found himself wondering idly how many days he'd been down in the cave. One? Two? Had Sam searched for him? Had he called in Bobby to help? Had he accepted Dean for dead or was he holding out some hope that Dean might have somehow fought the creature off? Dean knew he never would have given up if it was Sam in his place, but he found himself hoping that Sam was staying away from the water. He didn't want Sam being killed, not when Dean was almost certain he could talk Castiel round.

He didn't want Sam being eaten by one of Castiel's brothers or sisters. He didn't want Sam doing something reckless or trying to avenge his supposed death. He didn't want Sam taking risks he would never have taken if Dean was with him.

His thoughts were so preoccupied by Sam that for a while, Dean didn't even realize that Castiel had returned. It wasn't as if Castiel went out of his way to make his presence known either. It was just his head above water, Castiel watching him earnestly until Dean glanced his way, his body jerking with surprise when he realized he wasn't alone.

"How long have you been there, Cas?" he asked angrily. "Don't you know it's rude to stare?"

Castiel shook his head, drifting a little closer and Dean remembered that he was supposed to be sweet-talking Castiel, trying to get the creature to let him go free. He was hardly making a good impression on Castiel now, shouting at him. Dean took a deep breath, told himself to smile even if he didn't feel like it and patted the grass beside him.

"Why don't you come sit up here with me?" he said.

Castiel looked uncertain but slowly he pulled himself up, out of the water and slid beside Dean. Dean couldn't help but notice that Castiel was fidgeting again. It looked like he was trying to hide his tentacles, push them all to one side, the side furthest away from Dean but that was a fight Castiel was going to lose seeing as how half of his body was made up of the things.

"Uh, about what I said, about your tentacles," he said uneasily. "I mean, they're kind of...not that gross, once you get used to them."

Castiel visibly relaxed, the agitated fidgeting stopping, and Dean found him a lot easier to look at when half of him wasn't moving all the time.

"So, um, how are they? Your tentacles, I mean. You lost one, didn't you? Did it hurt?" Dean asked, groping for a topic of conversation.

He didn't mean to keep coming back to them over and over again but they were pretty impossible to miss. He wondered if he was being rude. Was it normal for tentacle monsters to discuss the size of their tentacles? Did they give each other tips on how to take care of them or was it like suddenly launching into a conversation about the best way to tend pubic hair?

Castiel blushed again, looking down at his tentacles and then back up at Dean.

"It did hurt, yes," he said. "It hurt a lot when it was stabbed but it didn't hurt when it came away. It will grow back though. I'm used to losing them. My brothers are very rough."

There was something stilted about the way Castiel spoke. He was like someone who'd learned a foreign language just from listening. He knew the words but he wasn't sure that he was saying them all in the right order or even certain of what they meant.

"Your English is good," Dean said. It might be a little off sometimes but at least Castiel was trying. If they'd been attempting to communicate with a language barrier between them then Dean didn't think they'd ever get anywhere.

Castiel smiled at him. "Thank you. I've been practising. I listen to people, but sometimes they're very hard to hear."

Dean smiled too. He could imagine it now, Castiel laying low in the water, listening to people's conversations and trying the words out for himself. He wasn't anything like the blood thirsty, hunger-driven monster Dean had thought he was hunting. His brothers and sisters might be, and Dean had already taken against them from the way Castiel spoke about them, but Castiel himself wasn't that bad.

There was an uncomfortable silence then. Dean could feel Castiel looking at him, could feel the pressure of his gaze but he didn't know what to say. He'd used up all his conversational opening gambits and now all he had left was to throw himself on Castiel's mercy and ask him to take him back to the surface and back to Sam. Dean knew already that it was too soon to ask that. He'd just put Castiel's back up, make him even more unlikely to do what he wanted. He had to get Castiel to trust him, to like him past the superficial way Castiel already liked him.

Dean looked at Castiel, looked at him desperately, trying to think of something to say to him, anything to say to him.

"Can I touch one?" he asked, the words jumping out of his mouth. "One of your tentacles, I mean?"

Dean wasn't sure what had possessed him to ask but Castiel had tentacles. They'd just been right there in front of him, strange and unusual and all Dean could think about. Castiel looked startled by his question but he nodded.

"Yes, you can," he said softly, leaning back and presenting his tentacles in front of him.

There were so many of them. Seven or eight long ones and any number of smaller ones. Dean reached out a hand towards one of the long tentacles, curiosity overriding his repulsion. He expected the tentacle to feel slimy but it didn't. It was cold and wet, but not slimy and surprisingly hard. He glanced up at Castiel's face. His eyes were closed and he looked happy. Dean wondered if this was like being stroked on the arm for him - nice, soothing, maybe even helping to ease sore muscles but nothing more. When Dean thought about it like stroking an arm, it stopped feeling so strange.

He moved on, taking another of the smaller tentacles in hand. It felt completely different to the larger one. It was soft and plump and Dean couldn't resist squeezing it. The tentacle moved in his hand, wiggling. Dean didn't find it anywhere near as weird as he'd thought he would. He squeezed it again, moving his hand up and down, feeling the smooth skin on the topside of the tentacle and the odd little puckered suckers on the underside. He got lost playing with it, tugging and stroking, running a finger across the suckers, feeling them straining after him, trying to grip on to him.

It took him a moment to realize that Castiel's breathing was laboured. He glanced again at Castiel, swallowing hard. Castiel's eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed and his mouth partly opened. Dean looked back down at tentacle in his hand, realisation washing over him like a bucket of cold water. He was, basically, giving a hand job to a tentacle monster.

He should have let go, should have dropped the tentacle and tried to get as far away from Castiel as possible but Castiel's face was so beautiful that Dean found himself stroking a little faster, squeezing harder, just to see the effect it had on him - a gasp here, a bitten lip there. Nothing Dean had ever downloaded had been like this. There had never been anything like Cas in those movies.

Dean licked his lips, shifting because he was growing hard watching Castiel, watching the pleasure play across his face. He wondered if Castiel had ever been touched like this before, if he even knew that he could feel this way. Suddenly Castiel stiffened, a broken, unhealthy noise spilling from his mouth and something sticky seeped from the suckers of his tentacle, all over Dean's hand.

Castiel opened his eyes, panting for breath. His whole body seemed to unwind, Castiel sliding forward, boneless suddenly. Dean dropped the tentacle, wiping his hand quickly on his trousers and he gathered Castiel into his arms, holding him close. Castiel smiled sleepily at him, looking so pleased and so content that Dean wanted nothing more than to kiss him. He was surprised at how cold Castiel was. He'd thought it was just his tentacles but it seemed to be Castiel all over. He was a cold-blooded little creature.

Castiel laid his cheek against Dean's chest, sighing softly. "You're so warm. Like a stone in the sun."

"Oh?" Dean asked. He wasn't really listening. He was trying to work out why he'd kept going, why he hadn't stopped. He'd told himself he was going to make Castiel like him but he hadn't planned on doing anything psychical with Castiel. He was trying to show Castiel that they were incompatible, but he'd proved the opposite.

"I miss the sun," Castiel said softly. "If people see us, they'll kill us.

"You kill people," Dean pointed out.

Castiel yawned, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of Dean's shirt. "Only when they come in the water, when they're a threat."

"You eat them."

"What else are we supposed to do with them?" Castiel asked.

Dean didn't have an answer for him. He hugged Castiel tightly, pressing a kiss to his damp hair. Talking to Castiel unsettled him. It made him wonder about the things he thought he knew, the facts that suddenly didn't seem like facts but interpretation. He didn't want to ask any more questions, didn't want any more answers. He'd already pushed enough boundaries for the day. He didn't want to find himself feeling sorry for monsters.

Castiel's breathing evened out, his chest rising and falling gently and his eyes closed. Dean looked down at his sleeping face and hated the fact that a monster could look so innocent.

"And what does this do?" Castiel asked.

He held up Dean's phone, peering at it intently. Dean shook his head, chuckling softly and stretched out his hand to take it back. Castiel had been like this all morning, going through his pockets, finding things and demanding an explanation. Dean almost expected him to start singing about how much he wanted to be part of Dean's world.

He'd half expected Castiel to have a secret cave somewhere filled with a treasure trove of things he'd taken from people over the years, but he supposed Castiel had something better than just objects to look at.

He had his very own human.

"This," Dean said, holding the phone up in front of Castiel's face. "is a phone. You dial a number and you can talk to someone else."

"Oh."

"But not down here, it doesn't work. Otherwise, I'd call my brother Sam, introduce the two of you. Sam would love to learn about you."

Castiel wrinkled his nose. "Was Sam the other man? The one who stabbed me? I don't think I want to meet him."

"Sam was just protecting me," Dean said. "You look like a monster to us, Cas."

"I'm not a monster," Castiel said defensively, wrapping his arms and tentacles around himself, forming a protective shield across his chest but Dean knew there was no defence against words.

"I know you're not," he said, edging towards Castiel, trying to make his voice soothing. "And you know I'm no danger to you, Cas, but your brothers wouldn't think like that, would they? They'd want to keep you safe. Sam didn't know you. If I could call him I'd tell him you're one of the good guys."

Castiel nodded eagerly, his eyes gleaming. "And would you tell him I was your mate?"

Dean glanced down at the phone in his hand, tried to imagine that conversation but his mind rebelled against it. "I think I'd want to tell Sam that face-to-face."

Castiel relaxed, unwinding his tentacles from around himself. Dean hardly found them strange any more. He'd gotten used to Castiel. Dean couldn't pretend he found the tentacles repulsive either. He found them fascinating. He liked touching them, liked the feel of them under his hand, liked seeing Castiel flustered and aroused.

A part of him knew it was wrong, that he was leading Castiel on, making him think they were mates when they weren't. Dean hadn't quite figured out a way to tell Castiel that he wasn't his husband or whatever the equivalent was for tentacle people. He didn't think that Castiel would get angry. He knew he'd be hurt and that was much worse.

Despite his reservations, Dean had come to accept that Castiel wasn't a monster. It flew in the face of everything he'd ever been taught but it was still true. Castiel was gentle. He was kind. He was keeping Dean imprisoned in a cave underwater but Dean got the feeling that Castiel didn't understand that was what he was doing. After all, Dean wasn't drawing attention to it. After the first day he hadn't demanded to leave and he'd stopped trying to look for an escape. He hadn't given up, he'd just grown used to being with Castiel.

Whenever he came up with a plan, with some bright idea to get free, Castiel distracted him. It wasn't planned, it wasn't done with any knowledge on Castiel's part that that was what he was doing. He simply arrived and Dean forgot about escaping.

He shook his head then, realizing that he'd been staring at Castiel, lost in thought.

"Hey, Cas," he said, opening his arms and Castiel wiggled his way into them, laying his head against Dean's chest and making a pleased little sound deep in the back of his throat. It was like something trying to purr although the sound never came out right. Dean hugged him tightly, enjoying the way Castiel fitted in to his arms.

He liked Castiel, liked his innocence and his sweetness. There were some things that were alien to Dean still though and while he could like Castiel, could consider him a friend, could think him a sentient being with thoughts and feelings, he couldn't see Castiel as equal to a human. He couldn't fall in love with Castiel. He told himself that over and over again. He could befriend a creature but he couldn't fall for one. What would his dad have said? What would Sam say? No, there was a line and Dean wouldn't cross it.

He told himself he wasn't crossing it even as he pressed a kiss to Castiel's hair and hugged him close.

"Cas," he said after a moment. "If you saw Sam, could you give him a message from me?"

Castiel looked up at him. For a moment he looked torn and Dean couldn't blame him for that. Sam had stabbed him, mitigating circumstances aside. Then Castiel nodded.

"Yes," he said. "I could."

"Would you tell him that I'm okay?" Dean asked, lacing his fingers together with Castiel's, holding his hand tightly. "Tell him I don't want revenge."

"Revenge?"

"He'll know what I'm talking about," Dean said quietly.

He didn't want Sam to hurt Castiel. He didn't want Sam avenging a death that had never happened. He thought about asking Castiel to tell Sam he'd come back but something held his tongue. It wasn't just the prospect of a fight, of Castiel getting upset, that worried him. He would leave eventually, Dean told himself. He just didn't want to get Sam's hopes up that it would be any time soon.

All Sam needed to know was that he was safe and that Castiel wasn't a threat.

Everything else Dean could figure out on his own.

It had been four days since Dean died. Sam hadn't been able to call Bobby. He'd tried so many times. He'd dialled the number, managed to actually put a call through once or twice. The first time he'd got a recorded message saying Bobby wasn't home and to leave his name and number. How could he tell Bobby that Dean was dead on an answer phone message? Bobby would come home from wherever he'd been, he'd see the message blinking and he'd press play, expecting someone needing his help. He shouldn't hear it that way.

He'd tried calling again, got through to Bobby in person, but his voice had failed him. He'd hung up and another time he'd just stayed there, silent on the line, till Bobby slammed the phone down on him. It was stupid, childish even, but Sam couldn't make himself say the words out loud. If he said it out loud, if he told someone else that Dean was dead, then it would be true. Sam wouldn't be able to pretend it hadn't happened or ignore it. He'd have to start making plans, he'd have to move on – physically and metaphorically - and he wasn't ready.

The passing of time was so unfair. Sam hated waking up and counting off another day. He hated marking time, hated that he was moving further and further away from the date of Dean's death. He hated that it would soon be a week since Dean died. He hated thinking that one day it would be a year, five years, forever, his whole life without Dean. He didn't want time to move. He wanted it to stay frozen.

He kept going down to the lakeside, walking up and down the bank, looking for something. The first few days he'd had the sheriff's department working alongside him but eventually they'd packed up when the body parts stopped coming. Sam had almost hoped they'd find some part of Dean, even though it would confirm forever the fact that Dean was gone, just so he'd have something to bury.

There had been nothing. Not even Dean's watch or a trace of his clothing had washed up. Sam hadn't been able to tell the sheriff that he was searching for his brother. He didn't want the awkward questions and if he had to tell the sheriff then he would have had to admit that he'd put his brother's life in danger and that he'd been unable to save him. Sam was already blaming himself. He didn't want someone else to do it for him.

With no body and nothing personal of Dean's, Sam couldn't bring himself to really believe his brother had died. He couldn't give Dean the funeral he should have had. Sam started expecting ghostly apparitions and unexplained events. He waited for a haunting that didn't come.

Sam found himself at the lake bank again that night, waiting. He was sure if he came back he'd find something. He brought the harpoon with him, half-hoping it would be the tentacle monster who had killed Dean. This time Sam wouldn't allow him to get away. He'd kill the monster or die trying. Dean wouldn't have died for nothing if Sam could kill the monster. Dean would have died a hero's death, a hunter's death, protecting people from dangers they didn't even know existed.

He hadn't seen any trace of the monsters since the night Dean was taken. He'd tried to draw them out, and he'd been careless with his attempts. He'd waded out till he was thigh-deep in water and splashed around, trying to draw attention to himself but no one had come. Tonight Sam didn't expect it to be any different.

He poked around in the weeds at the side of the lake, still searching for something of Dean's, but there was nothing there. Sam knew the sheriff and his people had been up and down the length of the lake bank, but that was a few days ago now. Sam still had hope, however faint.

He looked up from the lake's edge, staring into the middle of the lake. He'd tried imagining what it must have been like for Dean. He'd stood in the shower back at the motel, holding his breath until his chest ached and his lungs burned. He'd tried to soothe himself, to tell himself that Dean wouldn't have felt anything, that he would have passed out, but Sam couldn't fool himself for long. Dean would have known what was happening. He would have known he was about to die.

The more Sam stared, the more he was aware of ripples appearing in the centre of the lake. He bit his lip, forcing himself to keep quiet. As he watched, a head appeared out of the water. Sam recognised it immediately. He'd know the face of the monster that killed Dean anywhere.

He found himself frozen with indecision, unsure if he should wait, hope for the creature to come closer, to give him a better shot, or if he should wade in after it. He wanted to dive into the water but the water was the monster's home ground. It was safer there, had the advantage over Sam. Sam should try to lure him towards the land.

He was trying to figure out just how he should do it, what would be the best way to get the monster to notice him when the monster looked straight at him.

"I know you're there," the monster said.

Sam staggered back away from the lake side, his heart hammering in his chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The monster wasn't supposed to be aware of him and it wasn't supposed to talk.

Sam stood up, his fingers curled on the handle of his harpoon. He wouldn't run away, he wouldn't be a coward. He might be facing down the thing that killed Dean but that had to give him strength. As long as he stayed on the lakeside, didn't go into the water and kept away from the tentacles that he should be fine.

"What do you want? Did you come to kill me too?" he asked.

The creature's blue eyes widened.

"You tried to kill me," he said accusingly.

"You killed my brother!" Sam shouted.

"Dean isn't dead," the monster said angrily.

Sam stared at him, dumbstruck. He couldn't believe it. He'd spent the last four days trying to ignore the truth about Dean's death, and now he was talking to the monster who killed him and it wouldn't even admit what it had done.

"You're a liar!" he hissed.

The creature thrashed angrily in the water, its tentacles rising up out of the water. It looked furious. Good, Sam thought. He didn't know what the monster was playing at but he wasn't going to play along.

"I am not a liar!" the creature shouted. "Dean told me to give you a message. He said you'd understand. That you'd know I was one of the good guys."

Sam bit his tongue. It sounded like something his brother might say but Sam didn't think he'd ever say it about a monster, especially not one who'd tried to kill him.

He took a deep breath, clinging to the shred of hope that his brother might still be alive.

"Where is he then? Where's Dean?" he asked.

"Safe," the monster said plaintively. "He's with me."

Sam couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up in his throat, bitter as bile, from spilling out of his mouth.

"Safe? With you? You tried to drown him!"

"He wanted you to know that he's safe and that he doesn't want revenge. He said you'd know what he meant."

Sam shook his head. He didn't want to believe that Dean would say that. Revenge had got them into the hunting business in the first place, the need to bring justice to something that the mundane world couldn't understand and couldn't punish. Sam knew Dean would never stop searching for his killer if Sam died and he certainly wouldn't accept it if the monster that killed his brother told him to stop.

"I want to speak to Dean," he said. "If he's alive, then I can speak to him, can't I?"

The monster hesitated.

"Yes," he said after a moment. "Yes, I suppose."

"Right," Sam said. He moved to the edge of the lake, took a deep breath then stepped into the cold water. "Come here then. Take me to him."

The monster still looked apprehensive but it swam closer. Sam guessed it thought he was a fool. It was trying to lure him out into open water with the promise of his brother. No doubt, it would try to drown him when he got further out. Sam just needed it to get a little closer. He'd have a clean shot then.

"I'm Castiel," the monster said, a nervous smile tugging on his lips as he came towards Sam. "You're Sam. Dean's spoken about you often."

"Ah hu," Sam said, not really listening. He was watching the movements through the water.

"I'm so pleased you want to come. Dean said he could only tell you to your face," the monster continued, chattering away to itself. It was nearing the shallows now and Sam couldn't wait any longer. He raised his arm, the harpoon glinting in the moonlight and he hurled it at the monster.

The creature's eyes widened in horror, it half turned and the harpoon struck it in the shoulder, cutting him open. His blood flowed out into the black water. It wasn't the killing strike Sam wanted but the monster was wounded. He struggled forward into the water, reaching out for his harpoon, ready to throw it again and this time to kill it.

The monster clutched at his shoulder, looking at Sam with wounded, betrayed eyes.

"Sam?" he whispered as if he couldn't understand what Sam was doing.

"You killed my brother!" Sam shouted.

The creature shook his head. He didn't give Sam time to get any closer. He dived down into the water. Sam waded after him, jabbing at the water with his harpoon but the monster was gone. Sam tried to stay positive, hoped that the monster would die from its wounds.

He struggled back to the shore, his heart pounding. He felt more alive than he'd felt since Dean disappeared.

He'd call Bobby, he'd find out how to kill the tentacle monsters for sure. Even if it took pouring poison into their lake, he'd do it.

Dean was getting used to fish. He didn't like it but he was used to it. He'd also got better at ignoring the head and tail. He kept those bits back for Cas because he liked them. He'd developed a tasted for cooked fish and as long as Dean didn't have to watch him eat then he was happy for Castiel to have as many fish heads as he wanted.

Dean picked at his meal, wondering if Castiel could find him something else to eat - just for one meal. He wondered if the sheriff was still around. If he was and the search party was still out there, Castiel might be able to steal him a sandwich or something.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught sight of something moving in the water.

"Hey, Cas," he said. "I saved you some dinner."

He heard Castiel pull himself up, out of the water, heard the thump of his body on the cave floor. He heard Castiel groan and turned to look at him, expecting to see Castiel tired from swimming or hunting more fish. He didn't expect to see Castiel double over, more horribly pale than Dean had ever seen him, bleeding profusely from a wound in his shoulder.

Dean scrambled up, rushing to Castiel's side.

"Cas? Cas? What happened? Who did this to you?" he asked, frantic with fear. Castiel didn't look at all good. Dean had patched up enough wounds to know. He propped Castiel up against the cave wall, worrying as Castiel's head lolled to one side. He looked as if it was going to pass out at any moment. "Shit," Dean hissed. "Come on, Cas, talk to me."

He unbuttoned his shirt quickly, pulling it off and tearing it, pulling off the usable strips of materiel. He bound them tightly around Castiel's shoulder, trying to stop the flow of blood.

"Come on, Cas. Tell me what happened."

He was commanding now, not asking. He had to keep Castiel talking, had to keep him awake. He needed to know what had happened to Castiel, if there were injuries in other places he couldn't see. Castiel's eyes flickered open and he looked at Dean for a moment before he shut them again, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Who did this to me? Your brother did this to me."

"Sam?" Dean didn't understand. Sam had always been the level-headed one out of the two of them. Sam had been the one willing to listen - listen to vampires, listen to werewolves, listen to anything that gave him a sob story about how it didn't hurt people and it wasn't a monster. Dean was the one who shot first and asked questions later. "But I'm not dead! I said...did you give him my message?"

"He didn't want to hear it," Castiel said, shifting painfully. Dean stared at him for a moment. He was the reason Castiel had been in danger, that Castiel had been anywhere near humans. Castiel had said he was scared of people, scared that they'd kill him if he got too close to them. One of them almost had and it was all Dean's fault.

Castiel caught the look on his face, smiling faintly. "I'll heal. I will and I'll heal faster than you would."

Dean swallowed hard. He knew Supernatural creatures all had their own rates of healing. For some of them, the wounds were gone in the blink of an eye. Castiel still looked faint and pale though.

"Okay, we need to keep you warm," Dean said, sliding one arm around Castiel's waist, the other under his tentacles. He carried him across to the fire he'd built for cooking. It didn't seem anywhere near warm enough now. He settled Castiel down beside it. "Don't go to sleep, Cas, keep talking to me. I'm going to get this nice and hot for you."

"He was going to kill me," Castiel said. Dean winced. He'd wanted Castiel to talk but about something else, maybe tell him more about how soon he'd be healed. He grabbed up handfuls of the grass, enough to get the fire going properly, half-listening to Castiel. "He thought I'd hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"He didn't know," Dean said. Despite himself, he felt he had to defend Sam and his actions. Sam had been doing what he'd been trained to do, what he'd always been told to do.

"He never gave me a chance! I would have brought him here. I was going to bring him here!" Castiel was getting angry, his tentacles swaying back and forth, almost like a cat's tail when it was upset.

Dean didn't want Castiel upset or angry, he wanted him resting and taking care of himself. He dumped the fresh grass he'd picked into the fire, making sure it caught alight before he moved, lying down beside Cas.

Dean reached out, pulling Castiel closer, into his arms, mindful of the wound on his shoulder as he did.

"For warmth," he said softly. "We can share body heat."

Castiel looked up at him and sniffed softly. "If I died, you'd die too."

Dean nodded. He'd already thought about how ridiculous it was that Sam had tried to kill the thing that was keeping him alive. Without Castiel, he'd die a miserable, awful death from starvation alone in the cave. He knew it, but the thought of his own death didn't worry him half as much as Castiel's. Castiel was an innocent. He didn't deserve to die. Dean held him tightly, the thought of what might have been, of what could have happened, too horrible to contemplate.

"You're going to be fine," he said. Castiel had to be. Dean had patched up worse wounds in his time and he and Sam were still walking around. He could take care of Castiel too. "I shouldn't have asked you to do that. I should have known Sam wouldn't be thinking straight. I should never have put you in danger."

Castiel had done it for him, because Dean asked him to. He would never have been in Sam's line of fire otherwise.

"I'm going to protect you, Cas," he promised. He didn't know how he'd manage it. Castiel was arguably the stronger out of the two of them. He could probably have snapped Dean in half if he fancied it but he was hurt now and Dean needed to take care of him. In a very short space of time Castiel had become very dear to him. Dean couldn't lose him.

He hated himself for the way he felt, hated it because he knew it wasn't right and it wasn't natural but he couldn't stop himself from feeling it. He'd fallen in love with a supernatural creature. He'd told himself it wasn't possible, that it was just the effects of being caged up. Dean knew it damn well wasn't healthy what he felt but he still felt it. When faced with the possibility of losing Castiel, of him dying, Dean couldn't deny it.

"Fuck, Cas," he sighed, moving to tip Castiel's chin up. Castiel's eyes widened.

"Dean?"

"I guess you were right about everything," Dean said. Castiel had been right about humans, right about how dangerous they were, and he'd been right when he'd said Dean was his mate. He didn't know how Castiel had known, if it had been a whim on his part or some sixth sense that Dean didn't possess but he'd been right.

Dean closed the distance between the two of them, pressing his lips to Castiel's. Castiel's lips were cold, just like the rest of him, but slowly they warmed up under Dean's careful kisses. He ran his hands up and down over Castiel's sides, feeling Castiel start to respond. He broke the kiss, licking his lips. He wanted to keep kissing Castiel, wanted to do more than just kiss him but Cas was still weak. Dean wasn't going to push him for more than he could give.

"More?" Castiel asked hopefully.

"Not yet," Dean said. He knew Castiel said he'd heal and heal quickly but Dean doubted he was bette already. "We need to get your strength up first. I said I was going to protect you, Cas. I mean from me as well."

"More kisses then?"

Dean laughed softly. He moved to kiss Castiel again, hugging him tightly to him. He was still scared that something would happen, that Castiel wouldn't get better but for the moment he was happy. He felt a freedom he hadn't felt before. He knew he couldn't leave things this way, that he would have to find a way to speak to Sam, that he'd have to convince him that not only was Dean fine but that he was happy too but that could wait. He had Castiel in his arms, the warmth of the fire's glow and that was all that mattered for now.

Castiel's mouth was soft against his. He tasted fresh and clean. Not the artificial taste of freshness that Dean's associated with mint toothpaste, but real freshness like a splash of cold water. It was odd to associate the taste without the sensation but that was what Castiel tasted like. He was so much a part of the water, of the purity of the lake that Dean had a hard time thinking of him separately from it.

Castiel was an enthusiastic, if inexperienced kisser.

He moved against Dean as if he wanted to be as close to him as possible, as if he wanted there to be no space between them. Dean knew that feeling. He didn't want to hurt Castiel but he wanted to touch him. Dean wanted to do things that he didn't think were even physiologically possible to Castiel. He'd told Cas that they couldn't, that he wouldn't, but the demand behind Castiel's kisses grew and Dean found himself getting hard.

Castiel moved against him, his tentacles sliding around him, embracing him tightly. Dean could feel the strength in those tentacles. He'd never been held so tightly by anything in his life but he didn't feel frightened by them or by Castiel. He knew Castiel now and more importantly he trusted Castiel. Cas wouldn't do anything Dean didn't want.

Right now, what Dean wanted more than anything, was to pin Castiel under him and show him exactly how they had sex above the water line.

Castiel broke the kiss, nudging his nose against Dean's cheek and making a soft, hopeful sound.

"Please," he whispered. "We can be careful."

Dean swallowed hard. He still wasn't sure that they should. He wanted to, he wanted Cas very much but he didn't want to do anything to hurt him further. Still, he thought he understood why Castiel didn't want to wait. He was injured but he'd survived a blow meant to kill him. Dean had come back from hunts, from near-death misses and he'd reached for the first warm and willing body available to him. He'd wanted to reaffirm that he was still alive. If that was what Castiel was feeling, that adrenaline rush, then Dean could understand that.

"Careful," he said softly, rolling on to his back and bring Castiel to rest on top of him.

Castiel smiled, delighted by Dean's change of mind. He reached down between them, his fingers and tentacles making deft work of the zip on Dean's trousers. He tugged at them, trying to tug the button off and Dean reached down, unbuttoning it for him. He didn't want to ruin the only wearable piece of clothing he still had. He raised his hips up, letting Castiel pull his trousers down his hips, followed by his boxer short. His cock bobbed free, hard and red, pre-come already beading at the tip.

Castiel looked down at his cock with open curiosity.

"Can I touch you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, licking his lips.

Castiel reached out, a tentacle wrapping around the base of Dean's cock and he stroked his fingers gently over the head. Dean bit back a groan. Castiel's touches were hesitant, innocent and Dean didn't want to scare him off. He wanted so badly to buck up in to Castiel's hold, wanted to tell Castiel how to touch him, but he held back. More than his own pleasure, he wanted Castiel to enjoy himself. He wanted Castiel to take his time, to discover things at his own pace, not because Dean was pushing towards his own orgasm.

Castiel's tentacle moved slowly up and down the length of Dean's shaft, mimicking the way Dean had touched him. He rubbed over the head of Dean's cock experimentally with his index finger.

"Does that feel good?" he asked nervously and Dean realized that Castiel wanted him to talk, needed him to. This was completely new to Castiel and Dean had to guide him through it.

"Yeah, Cas, if feels really good," he said quickly, wanting to reassure him. "Keep doing that." Castiel smiled at him, his grip becoming just that little bit surer and stronger. Dean let his head fall back, his eyes closing and he moaned, pushing up into Castiel's hold. He'd been scared of Castiel's tentacles before, he'd thought they were unnatural but now he couldn't stop thinking about how good the firm grip on his cock felt, the little suckers rubbing over his skin a new and arousing sensation.

He reached out blindly, wrapping his arm around Castiel and pulled him closer, opening his eyes just long enough to make sure they were on the same trajectory. He kissed Castiel, holding him close as Castiel continued moving against him. Dean could feel the same sticky wetness seeping against him that he'd felt when he'd given Castiel that impromptu hand-job. Castiel was rubbing up against him, getting himself off at the same time as he worked on Dean's cock and Dean found that such a turn-on. He wanted to explore all of Castiel, wanted to find out just how wet Dean could make him.

His own cock was slicked with Castiel's wetness, the tentacle sliding up and down with ease. Castiel was mumbling against his lips, gasping out soft words that weren't English but Dean didn't need them to be because he understood.

He shut his eyes again, lost himself in the feeling of Castiel touching him and came. Castiel shuddered over him, coming apart completely. He collapsed against Dean and Dean held him, gasping for breath.

Slowly, Dean opened his eyes again. Castiel was lying with his head pillowed on his chest, breathing in great gulps of air, his eyes wide.

"That okay?" Dean asked, worried that it might have been too much for Castiel after all. He'd said he wanted it, he'd initiated it but he'd been injured. It was Dean who should have kept a level head, Dean who should have stopped. Castiel gasped again, shutting his eyes tight and Dean wondered if tentacle monsters could have multiple orgasms. Castiel still seemed to be feeling the after effects of what they'd done.

Then Castiel open his eyes and nodded.

"Yes, very okay," he said, smiling. "It was…wonderful."

"I'm glad," Dean murmured. He wiggled and moved them till Castiel was a lying with his head against Dean's shoulder and Dean could kiss his hair, his forehead, his flushed cheeks. He wanted to keep touching Castiel, wanted to keep proving to himself that Castiel was alright. Finally, with a little help from Castiel, he pulled his boxers and trousers back up.

Sleepy and sated, he fell asleep with Castiel entwined around him.

Dean awoke to the feeling of a tentacle prodding him between his shoulder blades. He groaned, blinking in the guttering light throw up by the fire and he squirmed away from the tentacle.

"Stop it, Cas!" he said. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up to Castiel's exploring tentacles but he thought he'd made it clear he didn't like tentacles on him when he wasn't awake to check where they were going. "Cas!"

"I'm not Castiel," someone said.

Dean jolted upwards, turning to look at who, or what, had been touching him. There was another creature in the cave. It didn't look like Castiel. It wasn't pale and dark haired. It was tanned, with sandy coloured hair and its tentacles were green, not the same black as Castiel's. It was grinning at him.

"What the fuck? Who are you?" Dean demanded. He looked around, fear settling in the pit of his stomach. "Where's Castiel?"

"He's gone to get some painkiller. There are some flowers on the other side of the lake. They make a good anaesthetic when ground up," the creature said. "I'm his brother, Gabriel. I'm watching you while he's gone."

"Does Castiel know you're here?" Dean asked.

He wondered why Gabriel couldn't have gone to get Castiel the pain relief he needed. If it had been Sam who was hurt, Dean would have gone to get the medication for him. Hell, if he knew the way out he'd got to get the flowers Castiel needed. The idea of Castiel relying on flowers to help soothe his pain didn't sit well with Dean. If he could get to the surface then he had morphine and other drugs he could use on Castiel, things he'd stolen from hospitals or off the internet. He didn't know exactly how Castiel would take to them, if they'd affect his physiology the same way they did a human, but they had to work better than flowers.

Gabriel shrugged, the motion rippling through him, from his shoulders down to his tentacles. "Castiel doesn't know I'm here, no, but what he doesn't know can't hurt him."

"Why are you here?" Dean asked. Castiel had said he didn't kill people. He'd been at pains to make sure Dean knew that, but he'd told him what his brothers did. Gabriel had wicked sharp teeth. Dean could easily guess how his green tentacles could look black in the night time. He glanced around, reaching for one of the bigger rocks by the fire. It wasn't the best weapon but it would do at short notice.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Put it down. I can snap your spine. You've got no chance."

"Doesn't mean I won't try," Dean growled.

"If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it already," Gabriel pointed out. "I just want to see what Castiel was keeping down here. He's been secretive, slipping off and coming down to the caves. He thinks no one's noticed but I have."

"So?"

"So, I wasn't expecting him to be keeping his own personal monster down here."

Dean bristled. "I'm not a monster."

Gabriel laughed. "You are so lucky I'm the one who got interested. Michael or Raphael, they'd have killed you while you slept. You're bad news, kiddo. Are you responsible for the cut to Castiel's shoulder?"

"No," Dean said angrily. "If you think I'd hurt him then you're wrong."

Gabriel studied him intently. "You related to the wild man on the shore? The one who's up there every night?"

Dean paused. "Do you mean Sam? He's my brother."

"Your brother," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "We better get you back to him then."

He reached out, one of his tentacles wrapping round Dean's wrist, tugging him forward, towards the water's edge.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Dean dug his feet in, struggling against Gabriel's pull. "I'm not going anywhere. What about Castiel?"

"What about Castiel?" Gabriel asked. "I'm doing what's best for him and for you. Your brother is a dangerous monster who's trying to kill us. You're down here and he's probably looking for you. If I give you back to him, he'll go away and we'll be safe."

Dean couldn't argue with Gabriel's logic. He was right in the most basic sense but there were other things at play that Gabriel didn't know about.

"I can't just leave," Dean said. He looked at Gabriel sheepishly. "Castiel thinks I'm his mate."

Gabriel opened his mouth then shook his head.

"You're not," he said. "Castiel is just confused. You're a monster and you two aren't even compatible."

"But I should tell him what's happening," Dean said.

"I'll tell him," Gabriel said. "I need to protect my family. Until your brother gets you back, we're all in danger. If your brother doesn't kill one of us, then someone's going to kill him."

Dean swallowed hard. He couldn't leave Sam in danger. Sam was his responsibility, his little brother. If anything happened to Sam then Dean would never forgive himself. He could go with Gabriel, he could find Sam and explain to him that Castiel wasn't dangerous, that his family weren't dangerous unless provoked. He could come back for Castiel. He was protecting Castiel by doing this.

"Okay," he said. "Take me back."

Once Sam knew he was alive all of this would stop. This was the only way Dean could see to keep both his brother and Castiel safe. He took a deep breath and let Gabriel drag him down into the water. He shut his eyes, the sensation of being pulled through the water making him feel sick. His lungs burned, his ears popped and when Dean was certain he was about to pass out, the dizzy sickness too much to stand, he found himself lying in the mud at the lake's edge, gasping for breath.

"Wait! Gabriel!" he struggled to sit up, reaching out but Gabriel was already gone, disappearing in a splash of tentacles back in to the water. Dean stared after him. He'd wanted to give Gabriel a message for Castiel. He'd wanted Gabriel to tell Castiel he was coming back.

Dean struggled to his feet, cupping his hands round his mouth. "Cas?" he called. "Cas!"

He waited, watching the water, waiting for a ripple but there was nothing. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. He was dripping wet, freezing cold. He couldn't stand there waiting for Castiel. He had to get somewhere warm and he had to get to Sam. Gabriel would tell Castiel what had happened. Castiel would understand that Dean had to do this. He had to protect his brother and he had to protect Castiel too.

He turned away from the water's edge, staggering away from the lake and towards the only other place he imagined Sam could be. He had to get to their motel room. He had to stop whatever twisted mission of revenge Sam was on.

There was loud banging on the motel door. Sam looked up from his research, frowning. He couldn't think of any reason anyone would be knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning. He'd been up half the night researching, looking for anything he could find. He'd sent Bobby a text message asking him to look up the monster's Germanic name in any of his old books. He hadn't included any information about Dean. He'd wait till he got his answers, till he had a monster's head to mount on the wall. He'd be able to tell Bobby everything once the job was done.

He reached for his gun, getting up slowly.

"I'm coming," he called as the knocking got louder.

He opened the door a crack, peering out into the early sun and felt his heart leap in his chest.

He was seeing a ghost. He had to be. Dean was standing there in front of him. He was shaking and pale, his shirt missing, his remaining clothes soaked through and he looked like he'd lost weight. Sam thought he could reach out and touch him and Dean would be real, flesh and blood, not an apparition.

"Let me in," Dean growled. He placed one hand, palm flat, on the door and shoved as hard as he could. "I'm freezing to death here, Sam!"

Sam stumbled back from the door. He held his gun up, pointing it in Dean's face.

"Get in, sit down," he said. "I saw you drown, Dean. You're dead."

Dean held his hands up in front of him, glaring at Sam but he did as he was told. He slid into Sam's vacated seat and held out his arm.

"Go on. Cut me. Throw holy water on me. Ask me to cross a salt line. I'm going to pass every test, Sam. I'm not dead."

"I saw you," Sam said. He shut the door, locking it and slowly lowered his gun.

"You saw me get dragged into the water," Dean said angrily. "You didn't see me drown. Will you just get it over with already? I want a hot shower and to get back into my own clothes."

Sam shook his head, wanting to believe the man sitting before him but not ready too. There were so many things that could take Dean's shape. He didn't have to be a ghost. He reached for his duffel bag and pulled out a knife. He sliced it across Dean's outstretched arm, watching blood rise to surface. He dropped the knife and grabbed a bottle of holy water. He pulled out the stopper and passed it to Dean.

"Drink," he said, watching as Dean drank with no hesitation or pain.

Sam ran through the whole gauntlet of tests till Dean was shaking and coughing, covered in cuts and little nicks but alive and human.

Sam sunk down on to the nearest bed, shaking his head in disbelief. "But you've been gone for five days? I don't understand. What happened?"

"It's a long story, Sam," Dean said, eyeing the connecting door through to the bathroom. "Let me get washed up and I'll tell you everything. Go get me a sandwich too. I need to eat something that isn't fish."

Sam drove down to the nearest store. He bought a crate of beer, two apple pies and a selection of sandwiches. They looked pretty miserable to him but Dean said he was starving and after five days, Sam couldn't blame him. When he got back Dean was lying on the motel bed, wearing his favourite jeans and a faded old t-shirt.

"Fuck, I missed beds," Dean said, turning to look at him. He sat up, licking his lips. "What did you get?"

Sam placed the bag in front of him, grinning at Dean's little pleased moan as he opened it up to discover just what was inside. He pulled out the nearest sandwich, opening it and taking a bite.

"Fuck," he swore again. "I really missed real food. All I've had to eat all week has been fish. It was all he brought me."

"Who?" Sam asked.

"Castiel," Dean said, his mouthful.

Sam sat down slowly. He felt as if he was being pushed down bodily, as if something had its hands on his shoulders and was forcing him down. Dean had been alive. He'd been alive when that monster had been talking to Sam, offering to take Sam to see him.

"He was keeping you," he said. It was a statement of fact, not a question. "Where?"

"Some cave under the water."

"How did you get out?" Sam asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"One of his brothers. He dragged me out of there. They were starting to get scared of you, Sam."

Sam clenched his hands, digging his fingers into the soft fleshy part of his thighs. Dean had been alive all that time and Sam could have gotten him killed. Dean had only escaped by the grace of some monster.

"I met Castiel," he said quietly.

"Yeah." Dean swallowed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "I know. You didn't have to hurt him, Sam."

"He tried to kill you. He was keeping you a prisoner!"

"It's more complicated than that, Sam, and he didn't try to kill me."

"I saw him!"

Dean set his sandwich down regretfully. "You couldn't even let me eat in peace, could you?" he grumbled. He straightened up, meeting Sam's eye. "Castiel isn't dangerous, Sam. He's different."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, edging forward. There was something about Dean's tone, something in the way he spoke that Sam didn't like.

Dean looked uncomfortable, shifting uneasily in his chair. "I mean do you ever think that maybe we've got it wrong? Yeah, I know you do. I know you think that vampires can be reformed and that some monsters aren't killers really. I'm just coming round to your way of thinking. I don't think Castiel is dangerous. I know he never meant to hurt me."

Sam frowned. This didn't sound like his brother. Dean didn't have doubts. He didn't feel sympathetic towards the monsters they killed. He certainly didn't try to defend them to Sam. It felt as if they'd swapped personalities, and Sam wanted to kill the creatures without a thought to the possible conscience they could have while Dean wanted a chance to save them.

"What happened then?" he asked. He'd listen to Dean's story then decide if he was delirious or brainwashed.

Dean leant back in his chair, glancing away from Sam. He rubbed a hand across his face, lost in thought for a moment.

"This whole thing sounds crazy," he said slowly. "The creatures…they think they're being attacked. They only kill out of self-preservation."

"They eat people."

"Disposal of the body," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders. "And Cas has never killed anyone."

"Cas?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I gave him a nickname," Dean said defensively.

"You make him sound like a pet, Dean."

"He's not a pet, Sam. Cas is…it's complicated."

"You said that before," Sam said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Dean shifted again. "You wouldn't understand. I swear, Sam, at the start I thought the whole tentacle thing was gross. I don't care what you saw in your browser history but with Cas…it just...it wasn't."

Sam shook his head. He thought he knew what Dean was trying to tell him but he really didn't want to hear it. Dean could have sex with a vampire or a demon, a centuries old witch even because they could all look human but there'd been no moment when he couldn't have known what he was doing and who he was doing it with.

"That's disgusting, Dean."

"It wasn't," Dean said angrily. "Do you think I even want to tell you about this? You won't back off. You won't accept that Castiel is one of the good guys."

"You had sex with a monster."

"Castiel isn't a monster. He's in love with me, Sam. He thinks I'm his mate."

Sam sat back. A little chuckle escaped from him his mouth before he bit his lip, stopping himself.

"Why are you laughing?" Dean snapped.

"Don't you think it's funny?" Sam said, his shoulders shaking with supressed laughter. "Come on, Dean!"

"No, I don't think it's funny," Dean growled. "Castiel is sweet. And damn it, Sam. I know it's not natural but I liked it and I liked him. I was starting to think I might love him."

"That's not love Dean. That's Stockholm syndrome."

"It wasn't like that!"

"He kept you prisoner for five days, Dean. It's exactly like that!"

Dean slumped down in his chair, shaking his head. "You've got it wrong."

"Eat your sandwich," Sam said. "I'm going to pack."

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"We're leaving. This whole hunt, it was a mistake. We just need to get out of here," Sam said, turning away from Dean, grabbing things and shoving them into his duffle bag. He'd call Bobby once they were on the road; tell him about the hunt that was waiting for someone else to complete it. He needed to get Dean out of the town and away from the monsters. He didn't like any of this.

"But Cas..."

"We're leaving, Dean," Sam said firmly.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands. He'd finally convinced Sam he was able to drive after a good ten minutes of arguing. Sam thought he was delicate, that he'd been brainwashed or something equally as stupid and he was treating Dean like he was sick. He wouldn't listen to Dean. He wouldn't accept that Dean could know his own mind. Dean knew that Sam thought he was grateful to Castiel and that he was mistaking that gratefulness for love but Sam had no idea what he was talking about. Dean wasn't grateful to Castiel. He'd hated being down in that cave, he'd hated eating fish for every meal. He'd hated everything about it apart from Castiel.

"You need to take the left turn for the highway," Sam said, studying the map laid out on his knees.

Dean looked out the window, frowning. To the left was the highway and a new hunt. He'd be going back to everything he'd known, driving away from the strange, complicated feelings Castiel had raised in him. He'd be going back to an easy life where monsters were monsters and Dean didn't fall in love with them.

He glanced in the other direction, towards the right and the lake.

He turned the wheel sharply, driving straight across the road and down the right hand track.

"Dean!" Sam yelped. "This is the wrong way! Dean!"

He tried to grab the wheel out of Dean's hands but Dean shoved him away, ramming his foot down on to the accelerator. The lake came into view and Dean felt his heart leap in his chest. If he left then some other hunters would come, Castiel and his family would be killed. Dean would lose him forever if he took the road to the left. He wasn't going to make that mistake when he could save them and save his own heart in the process.

"I can't do this, Sam. I can't," he gasped. "I know you think I'm fucked in the head but I'm not."

Dean pulled the car to a stop, jamming on the handbrake. He jumped out, running down towards the lake. The ground was slicked with mud and he staggered, trying not to fall over. "Cas?" he shouted. "Castiel!"

Dean reached the lakeside and stood there for a moment, panting for breath. He scanned the water, looking with desperation for something - a ripple, a movement - something to prove that Castiel was there. "Cas! Come on, Cas!"

He started pulling off his clothes, his boots first, followed by his shirt and jeans, dumping them on the ground beside the lake. The water was cold, Dean felt it the moment he stepped in but he kept going. He waded in up to his knees and waited. Behind him he could hear Sam, begging him in between gasps to come back to the shore but Dean couldn't do that. He had to talk to Castiel.

He moved deeper, the water swelling around his thighs and that was when he felt the brush of something cold and soft against his leg. Dean took a deep breath, ready for it to be one of Castiel's brothers, ready to be pulled under the water as the tentacle wrapped round his ankle. He knew he was putting himself in danger by getting in the water, that he might get the attention of someone other than Castiel, but it was the only way he could think of. Standing on the bank, shouting Castiel's name wasn't doing anything.

He stood still as the tentacle moved higher, stroking up his thigh. He hoped to hell that it was Castiel who was touching him. He stared out across the water, waiting for Castiel to show himself.

"Cas," he said again, nervously.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the top of a dark haired head bobbing in the water, still half-hidden. Castiel watching him from somewhere he felt safe.

"Hey," he said, turning to face Castiel properly. "Do you want to stop hiding and come out and talk to me?"

Castiel dropped back underneath the water and Dean cursed softly under his breath. He hadn't meant to scare Castiel away or sound angry with him. He wanted to talk to him, wanted to explain everything.

"Cas! Come back! I want to talk to you."

Castiel resurfaced, erupting out of the water right in front of Dean and Dean staggered back, taken off guard.

"Watch it, Cas!"

"You left," Castiel said angrily. "You were there and then you were gone! Why?" He was trembling all over with suppressed rage. He clenched his hands, knuckles turning white.

"I thought Gabriel would have told you..."

"Gabriel!" Castiel interrupted. "When did you meet Gabriel?"

"He was in the cave. He made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Dean laughed softly. Castiel frowned, his eyes narrowing and Dean realized that he had no idea what made it so funny. He stopped laughing and reached out, placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Gabriel was worried about you. You could have been killed, Castiel. Sam could have killed you."

"He didn't."

"Cas, you know I couldn't stay. The only way you were going to be safe, that your family was going to be safe, was if Sam knew I was alive."

"But..."

"Gabriel only wanted the same. Either your family would kill Sam or Sam would kill one of you. I thought Gabriel would tell you what happened."

Castiel sighed, shaking his head. "Gabriel never tells anyone what he's planning." He looked up at Dean, biting his lip and moved, pressing himself into Dean's arms and wrapping himself around the man. "I came back and you were gone. I was so worried."

Dean sighed softly, relieved that Castiel's anger had given way to worry. He didn't know how to stop Castiel being angry, but he knew how to soothe this. He hugged Castiel tightly, kissing his wet hair. "I'm not going to leave you, Cas. Not again."

"Dean!" Sam shouted from the shoreline. Dean turned his head, looking at Sam and shrugged his shoulders. He knew what Sam was saying, what that shout of his name really meant but there wasn't anything he could do. Dean had already made up his mind.

"I can't leave him, Sam!" he said, tightening his grip on Castiel.

Sam stood there for a moment, looking around. Then he started to pull off his own clothes, leaving them besides Dean's. He stepped into the water, his teeth chattering, but he kept going, till he was deep in the water.

"I'm Sam," he said, offering his hand out to Castiel. "I'm sorry about trying to kill you."

Castiel looked up at Dean, waiting for reassurance and when Dean nodded he took Sam's hand, shaking it warmly.

"Sam. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"So, what now?" Sam asked, treading water.

Dean smiled. "We're still hunters, right? We've got a job to do here, Sam. People keep dying, we should sort it out."

"And how are we going to do that?" Sam asked, sounding slightly dubious.

"I thought maybe we could get ourselves a little house, down by the lake and make sure no one goes swimming down here."

Sam smiled, shaking his head. "Apart from you."

"Apart from me," Dean agreed, smiling back.


End file.
